Looking south along the tracks.
I was there yesterday morning, sheltered from a cold drizzle, waiting for a train to Reagan National Airport. At the last minute I'd put my camera in my carry-on bag, and I pulled it out to take this picture. I'm not much of a photographer, but I like the way the tracks curve at the very end and I like the smoke stack in the distance.
I'm at my mother's house in Arizona. She had hip replacement surgery a month ago and I've come to stay with her for a while, more to convince myself she'll be okay than to be of any real help. We can't do much of anything while I'm here--she's a prisoner of medicare, under house arrest. Medicare is paying for some home physical therapy, and they'll stop it if they think she can get around well enough to do out-patient rather than home care. According to the rules, she can go two places: church and the beauty parlor. It's nice to know Medicare has its priorities straight. So I'm going to take her to get her hair done, and I'm trying to talk her into getting a rinse, which I think will be fun and will cheer her greatly.
I suggested that if I take her to the beauty parlor we could go out to lunch, but she won't risk it. I said "Who would know?" and she said "There are probably eyes and ears everywhere here." You've gotta hand it to an 85-year-old woman with a walker for being savvy enough to fear medicare spies under this administration. After all, 9-11 changed everything.
